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  • Title: Hamlet (Modern, Quarto 1)
  • Editor: David Bevington
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright David Bevington. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: David Bevington
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Modern, Quarto 1)

    3188.1[Scene 16]
    Enter Clown [Gravedigger] and another.
    31901 Clown
    I say no, she ought not to be buried
    In Christian burial.
    Why, sir?
    31951 Clown
    Marry, because she's drowned.
    But she did not drown herself.
    No, that's certain, the water drowned her.
    Yea, but it was against her will.
    1 Clown
    No, I deny that, for look you, sir, I stand here.
    If the water come to me, I drown not myself.
    3205But if I go to the water, and am there drowned,
    Ergo I am guilty of my own death.
    3208.1Y'are gone, go, y'are gone, sir.
    Ay, but see, she hath Christian burial,
    Because she is a great woman.
    Marry, more's the pity that great folk
    Should have more authority to hang or drown
    Themselves more than other people.
    Go fetch me a stoup of drink. But before thou
    3230Goest, tell me one thing: who builds strongest
    Of a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?
    Why, a mason, for he builds all of stone,
    And will endure long.
    That's pretty. To't again, to't again.
    Why, then, a carpenter, for he builds the gallows,
    And that brings many a one to his long home.
    1 Clown
    Pretty again. The gallows doth well. Marry, how 3235does it well? The gallows does well to them that do ill. Go get thee gone.
    And if anyone ask thee hereafter, say,
    A grave-maker, for the houses he builds
    Last till Doomsday. Fetch me a stoup of beer, go.
    [Exit Second Clown.]
    3245Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
    [He sings.]
    A pick-ax and a spade,
    A spade, for and a winding sheet,
    Most fit it is, for 'twill be made
    He throws up a shovel.
    For such a guest most meet.
    Hath this fellow any feeling of himself,
    That is thus merry in making of a grave?
    See how the slave jowls their heads against the earth!
    My lord, custom hath made it in him seem nothing.
    1 Clown[He sings.]
    A pick-ax and a spade, a spade,
    For and a winding sheet,
    Most fit it is for to be made
    For such a guest most meet.
    [He throws up skull.]
    Look you, there's another, Horatio.
    Why may't not be the skull of some lawyer?
    3289.1Methinks he should indict that fellow
    Of an action of battery, for knocking
    3290Him about the pate with's shovel. Now where is your
    Quirks and quillets now, your vouchers and
    Double vouchers, your leases and freehold
    And tenements? Why, that same box there will scarce
    Hold the conveyance of his land, and must
    The honor lie there? Oh, pitiful transformance!
    3302.1I prithee tell me, Horatio,
    3305Is parchment made of sheepskins?
    Ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too.
    I'faith, they prove themselves sheep and calves
    That deal with them, or put their trust in them.
    3275 [The Gravedigger throws up another skull.]
    There's another. Why may not that be Such-a-one's
    Skull, that praised my Lord Such-a-one's horse
    When he meant to beg him? Horatio, I prithee
    Let's question yonder fellow. --
    Now, my friend, whose grave is this?
    Mine, sir.
    But who must lie in it?
    If I should say I should, I should lie in my throat, sir.
    What man must be buried here?
    No man, sir.
    What woman?
    No woman neither, sir, but indeed
    One that was a woman.
    An excellent fellow, by the Lord, Horatio.
    3330This seven years have I noted it: the toe of the peasant
    Comes so near the heel of the courtier
    That he galls his kibe. [To the Gravedigger] I prithee tell me one thing:
    How long will a man lie in the ground before he rots?
    I'faith, sir, if he be not rotten before
    He be laid in, as we have many pocky corses,
    He will last you eight years. A tanner
    Will last you eight years full out, or nine.
    And why a tanner?
    Why, his hide is so tanned with his trade
    That it will hold out water, that's a parlous
    Devourer of your dead body, a great soaker.
    [He picks up a skull.]
    Look you, here's a skull hath been here this dozen year--
    Let me see, ay, ever since our last king Hamlet
    3335Slew Fortenbrasse in combat, young Hamlet's father,
    He that's mad.
    Ay, marry, how came he mad?
    I'faith, very strangely: by losing of his wits.
    Upon what ground?
    O' this ground, in Denmark.
    Where is he now?
    Why, now they sent him to England.
    To England! Wherefore?
    Why, they say he shall have his wits there.
    Or if he have not, 'tis no great matter there.
    It will not be seen there.
    Why not there?
    1 Clown
    Why, there, they say, the men are as mad as he.
    Whose skull was this?
    This? A plague on him, a mad rogue's it was.
    He poured once a whole flagon of Rhenish of my head.
    3365Why, do not you know him? This was one Yorick's skull.
    Was this? I prithee let me see it. [He takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick!
    I knew him, Horatio.
    A fellow of infinite mirth. He hath carried me twenty times upon his back. Here hung those lips that I have kissed a 3375hundred times, and to see, now they abhor me.--Where's your jests now, Yorick? Your flashes of merriment? Now go 3380to my lady's chamber and bid her paint herself an inch thick, to this she must come, Yorick.--Horatio, I prithee tell me one thing. Dost thou think that Alexander looked thus?
    Even so, my lord.
    And smelt thus?
    Ay, my lord, no otherwise.
    No? Why might not imagination work as thus of Alexander: Alexander died. Alexander was buried. Alexander became earth. Of earth we make clay. And Alexander being but clay, why might not time bring to pass that he might stop the bunghole of a beer-barrel?
    3400Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
    Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
    3405Enter King and Queen, Laertes, and other Lords, with a Priest after the coffin.
    What funeral's this that all the court laments?
    3410It shows to be some noble parentage.
    Stand by awhile.
    [Hamlet and Horatio conceal themselves.]
    What ceremony else? Say, what ceremony else?
    My lord, we have done all that lies in us,
    And more than well the church can tolerate.
    3415.1She hath had a dirge sung for her maiden soul;
    And, but for favor of the King and you,
    She had been buried in the open fields,
    Where now she is allowed Christian burial.
    So? I tell thee, churlish priest, a ministr'ing angelshall my sister be when thou liest howling.
    Hamlet [To Horatio] The fair Ofelia dead!
    Sweets to the sweet, farewell!
    I had thought to adorn thy bridal bed, fair maid,
    And not to follow thee unto thy grave.
    Forbear the earth awhile. Sister, farewell.
    Laertes leaps into the grave.
    3445Now pour your earth on, Olympus-high,
    And make a hill to o'ertop old Pelion!
    Hamlet leaps in after Laertes.
    TLN n="3449"/>HamletWhat's he that conjures so?
    Behold, 'tis I, Hamlet the Dane.
    The devil take thy soul!
    Oh, thou prayest not well.
    I prithee take thy hand from off my throat,
    For there is something in me dangerous,
    Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!
    I loved Ofelia as dear as twenty brothers could.
    Show me what thou wilt do for her.
    Wilt fight? Wilt fast? Wilt pray?
    Wilt drink up vessels? Eat a crocodile? I'll do't.
    Com'st thou here to whine?
    And where thou talk'st of burying thee alive,
    Here let us stand, and let them throw on us
    Whole hills of earth, till with the height thereof
    3480Make Oosell as a wart!
    Forbear, Laertes. Now is he mad as is the sea,
    Anon as mild and gentle as a dove.
    3484.1Therefore awhile give his wild humor scope.
    [To Laertes] What is the reason, sir, that you wrong me thus?
    I never gave you cause. But stand away.
    A cat will mew, a dog will have a day.
    Exit Hamlet and Horatio.
    Alas, it is his madness makes him thus,
    3482.1And not his heart, Laertes.
    [To Laertes] My lord, 'tis so. [Aside to him] But we'll no longer trifle.
    This very day shall Hamlet drink his last,
    3496.1For presently we mean to send to him.
    Therefore, Laertes, be in readiness.
    3498.1Laertes [Aside to the King]
    My lord, till then my soul will not be quiet.
    Come Gertred, we'll have Laertes and our son
    Made friends and lovers, as befits them both,
    Even as they tender us and love their country.
    God grant they may!
    Exeunt omnes.